


"Can I stroke your shaft?"

by tummyteeth (leiden_potato)



Category: Devil May Cry, DmC: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, bad euphimisms, nico being a goblin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 07:18:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19763260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiden_potato/pseuds/tummyteeth
Summary: Nico and V talk about his stick.





	"Can I stroke your shaft?"

Nico extinguished the cigarette stub on the dashboard ashtray, her arms stretched high over her head, yawning, waiting. 

Nero had been on the phone with Kirye for over thirty minutes now, and he’d taken to hiding not-so-subtly behind the phone booth. Their conversation looked like it was about to get longer and a heck of a lot more private. 

Deciding she didn’t want front-row seats to her friend’s phone sex, Nico rolled out of the driver’s seat and sauntered down the single step to the seating area, where one emaciated goth languished on the worn leather couch. He looked like a marionette with no strings, all limbs and fabric strewn haphazardly into a pile of something resembling a person.

This was the first time she’d seen him sleep all week, his little chicken friend was nowhere to be found. Finally the mystery of where his demonic pets went when he was unconscious was finally solved: they were hiding in his mystifying tattoos, exactly like he said when she asked twenty days ago and then didn’t believe him!

She considered getting her notebook from the workstation and writing this science down, as daddy always told her to do, but that would mean stepping over the long legs and waking him, or worse: tripping face first into the pile of busted devil breakers Nero discarded on the floor all over the van.

The only other mystery she wanted to study, other than entire man himself, was his demonic cane.

It was caught between his slack knees, held in place by a subconscious pinky. The grooves and ridges on it begged to be touched, studied; she wanted to get a chip of it under the magnifying glass. Maybe dip it in a vat of vinegar, too, just to see how it reacts. And maybe stick it in some dead Empusa slime as a control experiment. 

His eyes were on her when she looked up, heavy with fatigue but sharp with accusation at being observed at his most vulnerable.

“Did I wake you?” 

“I wasn’t sleeping,” He lied, “Simply resting my eyes.”

“Sure... Hey so... You mind if I touch that?” She gestured to his crotch with elaborately painted nails, “The uhhh rod. Stick? The pole between yer legs right there?”

His eyebrows curved up, the glaze over his eyes began to clear. “Wuh?”

“Your club?” She tried again, not at all hiding the grin, “Or is it a knob?” 

V’s lips stretched in a tired smirk, he couldn't believe his hard-earned nap was being interrupted for _this_. “It’s a walking cane, Nico.” His spine popped as he shifted in the squeaky leather seat. 

It was a relief to drop all pretenses now that he decided they were on a first-name basis. “I knew that! Nero tells me you deliver the finishing blow on them demons, big and small, through that. Gotta be something special about it, right?” 

“Perhaps.” He yawned.

“Perhaps?” She grabbed a half-empty bottle of pop off the pizza station and dropped into the vacant spot next to him, drawing a long swig of it and then grimacing at the stale taste. “You don’t know how it works?” 

V shifted in his seat to allow her more room, as if his lithe body was taking up too much space. His gloved hand followed the familiar slope of the handle and gripped. “I wasn’t much aware of my surroundings when I came upon it, one day it was just… There.” He offered it to her handle-first. “If you’re that curious, here.” 

“Aww, you givin me consent to touch your wood?” she snort laughed at her own poorly veiled euphemism. 

The tired draw of his brows relaxed, his attempt at holding back a laugh descended into fighting a coughing fit. A swig of artificially flavored pop relieved the dryness in his throat enough for him to speak again, even if the flavor put the wrinkles back in his brow. “It’s not made of actual wood, sadly.” 

“Oh yeah? Then what’s it made of?” 

“I hardly know. Some kind of Metal.”

“Mind if i take a piece of it to put it under the microscope?” Her hand shot up in the air to defend the question before he even started to respond. “Just a teeensy bit! Nothin to compromise the hardness of the shaft!” She could see the hesitation in his eyes, but he wasn’t saying no. “For science!”

He sighed. “Is that what you call your road trip album?” He motioned with the bottle to the work-in-progress photo album under the empty pizza box.

“There’s actual science reports that go with it, i’m just not done with those yet!” Nico huffed, mock-offended. “Keep questioning my integrity as a researcher and the report on you will be nothing but dick jokes!”

“You’d think with a name like V you’d be associating me with jokes of another kind.” His eyes twinkled at her scandalized silence, as if she hadn’t considered it until now. “You’re writing a report on me?”

“Yeah, I’m writing a report for everyone, and you’re a fascinating guy, V.”

The liquid at the bottom of the bottle sloshed with a flick of his wrist. Words escaped him for the longest moment. “Do you have anything stronger than this?” 

Nico clucked her tongue and resumed her experiments on the cane, aiming it like a gun to see if anything shoots out. “You think I’d be drinking this piss water if i had a jack danials?”

A lull in the conversation draped over them like a silky veil, the silence of the night a pleasant respite from the constant howling of tormented demon souls. “The bottles all broke while you did cartwheels with the van, didn’t they?” His focus was on the broken karaoke machine but her flustered indignation was practically telepathic. “Where is Nero?”

“Jackin’ off to phone sex with his girlfriend.” She rubbed a back and forth motion on the stiff length in her hands, the disapproving look she received in return made her snap back to scientist mode.

If V was confused about the logistics of sex over the phone, he didn’t show it. He watched the curious artisan scratch and flick at the cane, she set it on the floor, looked at it this way and that, even licked it when she thought he wasn’t looking.

It was still nothing but a simple walking cane.

Her hand landed on his arm and rolled it over to inspect the sprawl of tattoos. “The grain and the tattoo have the same pattern.” her mumbled discoveries seemed more to herself than the audience. “Maybe they work like an extension of each other...?” There were more words coming out of her mouth, all intangible and complicated.

The temporary safety of companionship was sucking him back into the worn leather, V found himself sinking into the bolted-down couch with a pleasant warmth against his arm and a comforting voice explaining to him the intricate details of a cursed inanimate object.

Nico turned to him when he didn’t answer a question, the man breathed deep and slow into his own cleavage with a ghost of a smirk on his face. With an impish smile, she reached over to her camera to snap a rare picture of a sleeping V. 

She scribbled on it with white marker and slipped it into the album with the rest.

“Fell asleep with his rod in my hands!”


End file.
